


Plot Twist.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels), valuna



Series: Novel Approach [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Dracula 2000 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-11
Updated: 2005-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows immediately after Initial Conflict.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plot Twist.

They've been back at it for hours, Gerry red-inking the world and Jonny curled into the study's window bench with his laptop, reworking passages, building tension between father and son at the moment. Every so often, he glances over at Gerry, tries to figure out exactly why the editor canceled his date, why he's staying and, most important, what brought on that kiss.

But mostly he's writing, tapped into the creative zone and concentrating on finding ways _not_ to use adverbs.

Gerry isn't red-inking as much as it looks like. Most of the time, he's going over things that don't sound right, and sneaking glances at Jonny. He isn't sure why he's still here, except that he wants to be. But Jonny's an attractive man and Gerry's never done this before. _You're not shagging him. No way._

It's close to midnight when Jonny looks at his watch. Midnight? What happened to dinner? He laughs. "You know what time it is, Gerry?"

"No." Gerry turns around to look at the clock on the wall and then rubs at his eyes. "Fuck me. Midnight?"

There's more laughter, bitten off in a cough. "Fuck you? Thought it was fuck me earlier." Jonny shoves the laptop off onto the cushion, turns and hangs his legs over the bench. "You hungry at all?"

Gerry will not blush. Will not. Sophisticated best-selling book editors do not blush. "A little," Gerry says. "Got more grilled cheese?"

"Yeah, there's more cheese. Or I could actually cook something, like an omelet. Whole midnight breakfast thing." Jonny pushes himself off the bench, stretches, his shirt coming up over his stomach. "You can snag the laptop and read the new chapter."

Gerry stares as Jonny's shirt goes up and the pale skin of his stomach peeks out. He clears his throat. "Omelet. Good idea. I'll, uh, read over the chapter and make changes."

"Betcha don't make many," Jonny says, a smirk smudging his lips as he crosses the room to the kitchen. _Cook and write. How domestic of me._ He sets about pulling everything there is in the fridge to make a really good omelet, leaving Gerry to his reading.

Gerry picks up the laptop and immediately saves it all as a different file. Turns on track changes and settles in. He hums under his breath as he reads through, every so often deleting or adding a comma, sometimes correcting a typo. Once he's done, he counts adverbs. Three. Fantastic.

Jonny tries to time it so the omelets'll be ready soon as Gerry finishes and he's just to the point of plating them. "You want coffee this late?" he shouts, hoping he's not interrupting.

"Got tea?"

"Sure. Green or Earl Grey?"

"Earl Grey."

"Alright, I'll put the kettle on. Dinner ready in five." Jonny turns back to the counter and plugs in the electric kettle, pulls out the tea and some cups. Everything'll be ready when Gerry comes in.

Gerry gives the chapter one last look and then shuts Jonny's computer. It's good, it's really good, and it's going to be great. He wanders into the kitchen and stands around, watching.

Jonny plates one omelet and adds a mound of pan-fried potatoes to the side. He turns and smiles at Gerry. "It's nice, you know," he says, putting the plate on the table, "having someone other than me to cook for." He goes back to the stove and plates up the second omelet, puts it on the table and then turns to get the kettle. "Stay all weekend and I'll have my culinary skills back in shape."

"Don't think your book is bad enough to merit a weekend." As soon as the words are out, Gerry wishes they weren't. "Sorry."

"S'alright." Jonny pours the tea and returns to the table, two cups in hand. "Didn't expect to have you here at midnight." He sets the cups down, then grabs cutlery for each of them before settling into a chair. "We'll feed you, get you tucked into a spare bed and have you on the midday train back to your life."

All that sounds fine, except for getting back to his life. Gerry knows that it's going to have to happen sooner or later, but he'd prefer later. "I'm not really that tired. You?"

"No. I tend to pull all-nighters, multi-day stretches when I'm writing." Jonny cuts into the omelet. "Just keep the kettle hot and the caffeine flowing."

"Me, too." Gerry licks his lips and digs in to the food. "Well, not for writing, but for other things."

"Like what?" It dawns on Jonny he knows very little about Gerry other than he's a damned good editor and fuckably good-looking. "What kinda things keep you up all night?"

Gerry shrugs. "Reading. Kicking around the internet. Playing around with video games."

"Video games?" Jonny's surprised. He wouldn't expect it. "Yeah, I'm an Net junkie. What games you play?"

"Pretty much whatever's on sale. But I'm addicted to Civ 2. You?"

"I've got Civ 3 on the laptop if the novel gets boring," Jonny says, grinning, then spearing a slice of omelet. "I like the first-person shooters, just to release tension."

"It gets boring after a while. I like to blow up cities."

"Blowing up cities is good therapy." Jonny takes a sip of tea, another bite of egg, considers for a moment where they're heading. Not that he knows. "What do you read?"

"Different things." Gerry helps himself to more omelet. "I'm working my way through a political series now, but I've just finished off some fantasy."

"Always surprised when editors read for pleasure. Seems like you'd be wasted on the written word."

"There is a habit of picking up the red pen," Gerry admits. "Occasionally I read something that I can't believe made it into print and out comes Mr. Bic and huge red lines." Gerard takes a sip of his tea, and adds sugar. "But I do love to read. That didn't end when I took the job."

Jonny can't help but laugh at the notion of Mr. Bic. _And this from a man who won't date guys who name their penises?_ "I don't read as much as I used to, not unless it's research. Miss it sometimes. Love to read aloud."

"You thought of taking a break?" Gerry asks. "After this book, settle down with old favourites? Might be good for you."

"I enjoy writing too much to just stop. Too many stories inside my head wanting out." Jonny wonders if there's something Gerry's trying to tell him. Fleeting thought he shrugs off. "Might not start up directly, though, take a few weeks holiday when we finish editing."

"Makes sense." Gerry fiddles with the brim of the mug. He's always been terrible at making conversation. Never knows what to say, or not to say. Right now, he doesn't know either. Can't talk about the weather, already talked about books. What else is there?

"So, we pulling the all-nighter on this one?" Jonny understands the awkward silence, its nagging fear. "Wanna stay in the study?" _Or can I take you to bed?_ He smiles, biting his lip at the thoughts racing through his brain.

"Don't need to. I mean, no real rush. Could do it all tomorrow."

"That works. Then I can take you to bed," Jonny says, putting down his fork. "Uh, I mean, find you a bed." He stutters over the words. "When you finish eating."

Gerry coughs hard. _Take you to bed._ He puts his fork down and stares at Jonny. "You really wanna do that?"

"Find you a bed? Yeah, mate, I'll even put fresh sheets on it." Jonny's not avoiding the question, just sidestepping it for a moment.

"Not what I asked." Maybe it wasn't a Freudian slip. Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. Maybe Jonny didn't want to shag him. Gerry sits back against the chair and looks away. "Never mind. I'll...I should be going."

Oh, fuck, he screwed it up. "Gerry, I," Jonny starts, taking a deep breath. He doesn't want Gerry to leave. He's not passing up the opportunity. "Don't go. Stay." He pushes back from the table, stands up and walks around to where Gerry's sitting. He holds out his hand. "Let me take you to bed. Please?"

_Take you to bed._ There it is again. "As long as it's sexual," he says.

"I can promise you at least part night's sleep," Jonny says, smiling. "Other than that, I'd like the rest to be sex."

Gerry grins. "Excellent. Let's...let's do that." Sex. With Jonny. _Finally._

Jonny leads the way upstairs, pointing out various rooms as they walk down the hall to the master suite. It's in the front, looking out on the water. "What do you want, Gerry?" he asks, not quite to his room yet. "I don't know the first thing about what you like."

"Face to face." Gerry hopes he's talking about sex. "I like it just enough rough that it hurts. You?"

"Yes to both." Jonny blushes, faint streaks of heat over his cheeks. "Top or bottom preference?"

"Hmm. With you? Bottom." Maybe later (if there is a later, and Gerry doubts it) he'll want to fuck Jonny. Right now, he's in the mood to get fucked. "You like topping?"

"Yeah, I like topping. I like being fucked, too." Jonny turns, nudges Gerry against the wall, pinning his wrists. "Tonight, I'll give you what you want. Next time, you're on top."

Gerry lets Jonny pin him. He smiles. "What I want," he echoes. "Go right ahead, Jonny. I'm terrible at waiting."

The angle's off, the few inches in height difference making it slightly askew, but Jonny kisses Gerry next. Intent to bruise, nothing soft about it, going up on the toes of the hi-tops to make it work, sucking at the bottom lip, nibbling, then kissing again. All of what he's been wanting to do for months, since the second novel hit the shelves.

Wow. Christ, that's good. Bloody brilliant. Gerry opens his mouth to it, not caring if he's supposed to be the passive partner. "Wow," he whispers, breaking the kiss. "Why didn't we do this sooner?"

"Well, for my part, there was Sean," Jonny says, pulling out of the kiss, stepping back. "I tend to be monogamous when I'm involved." He thinks that's the _only_ reason he hadn't thought about it seriously before eight months ago. No other logical reason for not wanting the drop-dead gorgeous man standing in front of him.

"My turn to edit," he says, grinning. "You have too many clothes on. Want you to walk into the bedroom and strip for me. Slow_ly_. Seductive_ly_."

Gerry raises an eyebrow at the careful adverbs, but then shrugs. "Your wish..." This is less editing than ordering, but Gerry's not going to say that. He walks past Jonny and starts unbuttoning his shirt pulling it tight against his arms as he takes it off. He knows that it makes it see-throat, and he wants to tease before he gives Jonny what he wants.

It's a tease, a tempting one, and Jonny swats Gerry's arse as he follows him into the room, walks past him, perches on the edge of the bed. "You do this a lot? Strip? Bottom?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Gerry bends over and unties his shoes. "I'd thought it was obvious."

"Nothing about you is obvious, Gerry." Jonny's watching, cataloguing every move, how Gerry stretches his fingers, unties first the left shoe and then the right, wondering about that, mentally sketching him with a writer's mind to character detail. "If it were, I wouldn't assumed you'd be slamming me into the mattress and fucking my brains out."

"Oh, I'll do that." Gerry looks up and grins. "But right now, I'm in the mood to be slammed and fucked." He slides the gap jeans down slowly, tugging them over the tough spots. "Are you?"

Jonny can't help but smile as Gerry finishes. Nice package. Excellent presentation. He'd buy it off the shelf. Then he's grinning. He doesn't have to, though. It's being offered. "Okay. You want just rough sex or all-out scene?" He's not moving to undress. He'll get around to it later.

"Sex." Gerry stares at Jonny across the room. "Just sex."

"Then you're rather far away, aren't you, Gerry? Come over here." Jonny takes a breath, smiles. _You can do this. You topped Sean. Some. Not that hard._

Christ. He's actually letting Jonny do this. Gerry swallows hard and nods. He walks over to Jonny, and wonders if he's supposed to kneel. It's been ages since he's done anything like this.

Jonny's hesitant, reaching out his hand and ghosting his fingers over Gerry's chest before pressing his palm down. _C'mon, it's not that hard. Just be demanding._ He bites at his upper lip. "Want you," he says, softly, tentative words, "on your knees." He stops short of adding the _please_.

On his knees. Okay. Gerry can do that. He moves awkwardly onto his knees and looks up at Jonny. "Now what?" he whispers.

_Now what? Good question._ Jonny slides forward to the bed's edge, feet hitting the floor. He's grinning, but it has an evil cast to it, and he slides his hand down over his jeans, palms his cock. "You suck me," he says, deep breath, "and maybe I come down your throat or maybe I hold off and fuck you."

Holy fuck. Definitely worth canceling his date for this. "Yes," Gerry whispers. "Suck you." He leans forward and presses his lips against the back of Jonny's hand. "Please."

Jonny turns his hand over and strokes Gerry's chin, then cheek. _Should've done this long ago._ His free hand works over the buttons, tugging metal free from denim, enough to show the flesh and hair beneath. "You can do the rest, I think."

Gerry stares at Jonny's cock and licks his lips. He doesn't know why they've never done this before. He moves forward and wraps his lips around the head of Jonny's cock and begins to suck.

"Yeah, that's nice," Jonny murmurs, hands sliding around Gerry's neck, rubbing as fingers stretch out and thumbs push into the edges of hair. It's better than nice, but Jonny's not admitting that yet. He shifts, leaning forward, nudging more of his cock into Gerry's mouth.

Gerry's never been good at this, and most of his dates have been of the shag and handjob type. He has no idea what Jonny likes. Gerry slides his tongue along the shaft and teases at the foreskin, and then goes back to sucking, hoping he isn't being terrible.

Not terrible. Not the best he's ever had, not that Jonny's had that many guys go down on him. Gerry's doing well, he thinks, and he pushes forward, driving his cock a bit deeper. "You're good at this," he says, thinking on how Sean would praise him, trying to think on the right words. "Gonna fuck your throat, till all you're tasting is my cock."

So he's not terrible. Or, he is and Jonny's just telling him he isn't so he doesn't feel bad. One of them and Gerry'll ask later. He swallows as much of Jonny as he can, wondering why the thought of Jonny fucking his throat gets him so hard.

"Fuckin' great, Gerry, but I wanna fuck you." Jonny's mood turn on a dime, or maybe it's just the topping, and he pulls back. "Stop. Get up. Bend over the bed."

Gerry pulls back and frowns. "I wasn't good enough, Jonny?" He's not disputing that he wasn't, but if Jonny was disappointed, Gerry wants to know.

Jonny places his hands on either side of Gerry's head, hands cupping and fingers stretching onto throat. "Oh, no, Gerry," he says, pulling the editor up. "You were perfect. Such a mouth. Made for sucking cock."

"Or criticising upstart young authors?" Gerry gives Jonny a look. He's willing to play games, he's willing to suck cock, but he's not all that willing to let Jonny tell him that he was born to be a cocksucker.

"Or criticizing smart-arse hack writers. Yeah, that, too." Jonny thinks maybe he should apologize, but he hadn't meant it in a bad way, not like he was saying that's all Gerry was good for. _Fuck, he's good so much._ "Come up here. Really want to be inside you."

"Ok." It's not like he doesn't want to get fucked. He just doesn't want Jonny to do whatever that thing he's doing. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

"Uh." Jonny eases his hand off Gerry's face and runs it through his hair. _Where the fuck are they?_ "Check the drawer, nightstand. I think."

"And your lubricant?" Gerry likes Jonny touching him. Really, he does. But he wants to get fucked. _This wasn't the best idea._

"Same drawer." Jonny rubs his other hand over Gerry's face, thumb over lips. _I'm shite at this. Christ, shouldn't even try._ "You get." He adds the inflection of a question at the last minute.

"Ok," Gerry says again. He was going to go get them anyway. "How, uh, how do you want? Facing up, facing down?"

"Face up, so I can see you." Jonny wraps his fingers in the hem of his shirt and tugs it up over his head. _Damn, I want this, but I'm fucking it up._ He pushes his jeans down over his hips.

"Right." Gerry gets the condom and lubricant and hands both of them to Jonny. He shouldn't be doing this. This is his friend, for Chrissakes, and more importantly he's the man whose adverbs he's been exorcising all night. If anything, Jonny'll probably be extra brutal for that.

Jonny waits till Gerry's sprawled on the bed before he climbs up, kneeling between Gerry's legs. He tears open the packet, shakes out the condom and unrolls it over his cock. _This is not rocket science. Just take control._ He opens the lube and spreads a bit over his cock, stroking it down, and then a bit more on his fingers. And then he's pushing Gerry's legs apart, knees back, with a bit of roughness, enough so it's not unexpected when he shoves two fingers into Gerry's tight hole.

Gerry almost jumps when Jonny starts with two fingers. _Really not a good idea, this._ But it does feel good, and he did tell Jonny he could do this. He does his best to relax and take everything Jonny's giving to him.

_This'll work. Damn, it's a good idea. Finally._ Jonny twists his fingers, curling them as he pulls back, sliding over that sweet spot, hitting it again and again, smiling as Gerry's body jerks. "So friggin' tight, Gerry. Gonna be sweet getting my cock in there."

Gerry jerks as Jonny's fingers touch his prostate again and he lets out a low moan. "Jonny, please...stop teasing."

"Not teasing. It's foreplay," Jonny corrects, but nonetheless jerks his fingers out and wipes them on the sheets. "Could've fucked you without any prep." He pulls Gerry's legs up over his thighs and guides his cock into position, pressing against the hole, pushing in, a solid thrust forward until he's fully in.

"No, you couldn't've." Wouldn't have worked. But this ... this works. Gerry tries to think himself relaxed, and enjoy Jonny's cock pushing inside him. _Better than Eddie._

"No, probably not. Would've hurt like hell." And while hurting might be a good thing, Jonny would really refer to be receiving end of that. He concentrates on setting up a rhythm, something just this side of relenting bruise, but rough and steady and with every motion Jonny pounds deeper into Gerry's body.

Gerry still thinks this is a bad idea, but he can't deny how bloody good it feels to have Jonny fucking him like this. He rocks back against Jonny's cock, wanting to keep him inside, fucking him hard.

It's not a bad idea, and Jonny'll prove it. To himself. Gerry. It's a good -- slam, fuck -- damn good idea. He digs his fingers into Gerry's sides, gouging and bruising. It's a great idea. Then he leans forward -- slam, thrust, fuck -- dips his head and licks over Gerry's nipple, nibbling and sucking. And when Gerry responds with whimpers and body twitching, Jonny decides to take it to another level. He bites, tugging the taut nipple between his teeth, then licking over the damage before quickly moving to the other side, repeating all the actions on that nipple.

Gerry almost screams at the bite. Unexpected. Not entirely unwelcome. Sex good. Biting good. Teasing bad. "Jonny...." Fuck me already. The words die in his throat. He isn't going to beg, and he isn't going to demand.

Jonny glances up, sees the odd smile on Gerry's lips. He knows the look. It's the _Jonny, pay attention_ look he gets when Gerry's explaining an edit and Jonny's mind is drifting. Ah, yes, fucking. He licks over the tortured nipple and pulls up completely, concentrating on his cock in Gerry's arse, fucking with one brutal thrust after another.

"Better?" He grips his fingers around the curve of Gerry's hips, tugs him down into the forward push. "Wanna come?"

There's no way in hell Gerry's giving up power over his orgasms. No way in hell. So he takes Jonny's comment as a suggestion. "Yeah." Gerry pushes back against the thrusts, knowing that it's going to hurt tomorrow, wondering how much he can get away with then because of it. "Soon."

It was a suggestion. Jonny's not nearly deep enough into top headspace to be giving orders. He doesn't think he can get there. "Whenever you feel like, Gerry," he says, punctuating each word with a slam forward, driving his cock deeper, deep as possible. "Or not at all, if you get off on it."

He doesn't; he's just not ready yet. He needs to be touched, stroked, and as good as the fucking is, it's not that good. "Touch me," he growls. "Fucking touch me, Jon."

_Jon?_ Jonny shakes his head and moves one hand to wrap Gerry's cock. He strokes it. Long, liquid strokes. "That's topping from the bottom, Gerry," he murmurs, twisting his wrist as he tugs at the head.

"Don't...give...a damn." Gerry comes and bites his lip, not wanting to see what Jonny's face looks like.

Jonny's smiling, until Gerry's body clenches around his cock. Vise grip. Pulling hard at the orgasm demanding attention. He manages another few thrusts before he comes, violent force shaking his body. "Christ, bloody hell," he snarls, pounding into Gerry's body until he's ridden through the ripples.

The last few thrusts hurt more than any did before and Gerry yelps at each one. When Jonny's finally come, Gerry tries to move back, get in a more comfortable position. The regret's already started coming back.

Pulling back's slow, but Jonny manages, kneeling between Gerry's legs, stripping off the condom and disposing of it over the bed's edge into the wastebin under the nightstand. "Was that," he starts to ask. _Good enough? What you wanted? Too much?_ He switches gears. "I can grab a warm rag. Or you want a shower?"

"Shower's good." Gerry doesn't want to know what Jonny was about to say. He rolls out of bed and stretches. "Where?"

"Door there," Jonny says, pointing to the left wall, farthest door. "There's fresh towels in the closet. Robe on the back of the door. Should be big enough." He sits crosslegged on the bed's edge. "That was nice, by the way. Thanks."

"You're welcome." It feels odd to be thanked for sex. Gerry gets into the shower and cleans off quickly, wincing as the water flows over his arse. This was a bad idea. How the fuck are they going to be able to have a working relationship when he just bottomed for Jonny?

Strange thing is Jonny's not thinking about who bottomed, other than wishing the roles had been reversed. He pulls himself out of bed and walks to the bathroom door, left ajar. "Leave the water running and I'll hop in when you're out," he says, voice casual, calm. "Then we can work some more if you want."

Right. Work. It's what he's here for. "Sure!" Gerry calls, trying to be as casual. "And I'll take an ax to your adjectives this time!"

"An ax? Rather brutal." Jonny slips through the door, opens the closet and pulls out one of the large bathsheets, draping it over the towel-warming bar to let it heat for Gerry. "Course, we don't have to work. We could just go back to bed."

Gerry pulls back the shower curtain and looks at Jonny. "We'll work." Closes it again, rinses off his hair. "It's why I'm here," he mutters.

"Yeah, it's why you're here." Jonny sighs. _Let's just forget the other happened. You probably want to._ He hops up on the sink's edge, leans back and traces abstract patterns in the mirror's steam-fog. "Could bring the laptop up, stay in bed and work." _No reason not to indulge while you have him. He may never be back._

"Don't tempt me," Gerry whispers, knowing that Jonny won't be able to hear. He gets out of the shower and grabs the towel. "Your turn."

"Thanks," Jonny says, turning away from the mirror and hopping to the floor. "Warmed the towel for you." He slides past Gerard, smiling, and steps into the shower. "I won't be a second, then I'll run down, get the stuff, some water."

"Thanks." The towel's nice and warm. Gerry pulls out a bathrobe and ties it around his waist.

Jonny's quick as he says, soaping up his hair as he steps under the spray, rubbing it down his body and turning to rinse. No reason to linger. Not needing to wake up or lull himself to sleep, his only standard reasons for staying more than a few seconds in the shower. He shakes his head, wets everything down once more and shuts the water off.

"Toss me the towel behind you?" he asks Gerry, stepping out.

"Here." Gerry throws it to him, glad Jonny didn't take so long that Gerry would stoop to look through his medicine cabinet for something to look at.

"Thanks." Jonny snags the towel and dries off, then hangs it over the hook on the wall. He bends down and retrieves a pair of sweats from a basket, tugs them on. "You want more food? Anything other than water?"

"Maybe some fruit, if you got it." _Don't look at his ass. You'll only start thinking about jumping him._ "Apple, maybe. Could use a pear."

"Apple. Pear. No banana?" Jonny's smirking. Can't help it. Gerry's bringing out the playful boy in him.

"No banana." Even Gerry has to smile at that. "Sorry. Hate to disappoint your fantasies."

"You haven't disappointed my fantasies." Jonny runs his hand through his hair, which only serves to spike it. "Haven't even told you all of them." He moves past Gerry, opens the bathroom door wider. "You need your bag? Anything else?"

"You don't have to tell me them." There's innuendo and there's prying. Gerry doesn't want to pry. "Don't need anything, just something to munch on."

"Not even the ones where you're bending me over the desk?" Jonny says over his shoulder as he leaves the room. Okay, it's flirting. He knows it. And it's way past innuendo. Knows that, too. He bounces down the stairs, heading for the kitchen first to snag fruit and water.

"You told me that one," Gerry says, following him down. The innuendo sits uncomfortably in his stomach. _We just shagged. You can drop it now._

Jonny comes out of the kitchen, balancing water bottles and fruit in his arms. "I know. Didn't give you all the details." He grabs his laptop case and tucks his stash in the other pocket, then snags the computer and puts it into the center space. "Hands being tied, spread eagle, all those good things."

"Don't think I want to know." Gerry grabs a pear from Jonny's arm. "Unless you're going to slide a sanitized version of it into the next book."

"You want? I'll make you a villain and let you shag the hero." Jonny's smirking. "C'mon, back to bed. We can plot out the sex."

"Shag the hero? Does the hero want it to find out information, or does he want it because the villain is sexy?"

Jonny glances over his shoulder before his foot hits the bottom stair. "Hmm, well the villain _is_ sexy. Fuckable to the extreme," he says, smiling, "but I think the hero's being manipulative, trying to get information any way he can."

"Going for the antihero?" Gerry bites into the pear and licks his fingers clean. "Or for the manipulative hero who still represents the forces of light and all things good?" Heavy on the sarcasm there, but they'd fucked, and now he's eating Jonny's food, and the guilt isn't as strong as it should be. He shouldn't want to jump Jonny again. Not the way these things work.

"Which one's more appealing to the villain?" Jonny takes the stairs two at a time, stopping midway. "After all, it's critical to the plot for the hero to be taken in him."

"I've always been partial to the antihero." Don't look at Jonny's arse. Don't look at Jonny's arse. "They're much more sympathetic."

"Antihero it is, then." Jonny turns and continues up the stairs, unintentionally wriggling his arse as he hits the landing. "And he harbors a dark attraction to the villain, a part of him he hasn't yielded to or even acknowledged aloud."

"He turn bad?" Gerry forces himself to stare at the wall. He bites again into the pear, sucking into it.

"Hmm, not sure. He's definitely tempted. And there's a bit of delusion on his part, that he can turn the spy back to the good side." Jonny walks down the hall and back into the bedroom, depositing the laptop on the nightstand, pulling up the adapter he keeps there and plugging it in to charge. He unloads the bag off his shoulder onto the bedcovers and starts stripping out of the sweats.

Gerry takes a place along the wall, watching Jonny. "Delusional, or can he actually? Because if it's the latter, Jonny, nip it in the bud. No one can do that realistically, and it sucks. Temptation is juicy, redemption is for church."

"Oh, totally delusional." Jonny shrugs the sweats down his legs and kicks them off, then climbs into bed, shoving the pillows into a heap behind his head. "No redemption. I agree. Readers wouldn't buy it. C'mon back to bed. You can nitpick my adverbs some more." _Or ravish me._

Nitpick his adverbs. Gerry doesn't know if that was innuendo or an honest offering. _Sign that you're far too tired to deal with a sexy man right now._ He tosses the pear into the wastebin and climbs into bed.

It's a bit of both, innuendo and offer. Jonny keeps nudging, hoping Gerry will take the hint. _Take control, you idiot. I don't want it._ He's never been that comfortable being in charge, especially not sexually, not that he and Sean had specific roles. That was mostly just sex. Pretty vanilla, sometimes rough, but just sex.

"Okay," Jonny says, "so where were we?"

"I, uh, don't know." Gerry doesn't quite know what to do with his hands. "Where were we?"

"If you're nitpicking, we were into the rewrites." Jonny has a few ideas of what Gerry could be doing. Most of them involve Gerry's hands on Jonny's body, mouth making contact. "If you're following up on the sex, it's your turn to be on top."

"It's too early for sex." _And if this gets any more awkward..._ "Tell me about the rewrites."

"What you read last night, expanding the father-son relationship, giving him a bit more motivation." Jonny doesn't say anything about the sex comment. He's starting to think it was a fluke, shouldn't've happened. "Did it work?"

"Yeah, it worked." And now they've fucking run out of conversation topics. Lovely.

"So, what else did it need? You mentioned something about pulling out the climax. It long enough." Jonny's pulled himself up to sitting crosslegged, sheet twisted around his legs, only half-covering himself. He's never been one to worry about modesty. Naked's the natural way 'round here. "What's it still need?"

Gerry sits up, not bothering to correct his posture. "Don't know. Think I'll have to sleep on it. Main problems were that it felt rushed. Pad it out, add more dialogue. People skim over action."

"Rushed." Jonny thinks on it, mind already running through where he could draw out the action. "Sleep. You want to sleep? I'm keeping you awake. Sorry."

Gerry shrugs. "Not very tired."

"Okay. Then read over this." Jonny opens a folder on the computer's desktop and then a file. "I wrote it and tossed it away. Felt it dragged too much, gave too deep a look into the bastard son's mind." He's confused by Gerry's reactions. Or lack of. The calm. "Might be what you're thinking about, though, with padding."

Gerry's always calm after freaking out, and he'd suppressed the panic attack until Jonny's sleeping. "Going deep, yeah. 'S what I want." He leans forward. "Give over."

Jonny slides the laptop over to Gerry's lap. "Just how deep you wanna go?"

"Not too deep." Gerry puts the laptop on his lap and tilts the screen back so he can see. "You're not writing psychology, just fiction." He skims through the section, adds a few words here and there and then gives it back to Jonny. "Like it."

"Thanks. Thought you might after what you've been saying." Jonny settles back, uncrosses his legs and raises his knees, setting the laptop on his thighs. He reads over Gerry's edits. "Yeah, makes sense." And then he's typing, fast, going quiet for several minutes, adding another few hundred words to the passage.

It's a good rhythm. Passing the laptop back and forth, instant feedback. They'd done this on the second novel's rewrites, but it's somehow more comfortable now. Gerry thinks he knows what Jonny's meaning to say when he doesn't, and he can add it in without Jonny making a fuss. And things are reading smoother, more like Gerry likes them. Working in tandem at its best. Jonny writes, Gerry edits.

This is much more comfortable than with the second novel. Natural feeling, even the being in bed part of it. Jonny grabs an apple and does away with most of it while Gerry's editing a new passage, and then he's leaning closer, draped over Gerry's shoulder. "Can you rework that? My syntax is all out of loop, and I can't find the right word."

"Yeah." Gerry taps the ball mouth and thinks, then clicks over the word and puts in another one. "That what you were looking for?"

Jonny reads over the sentence again. "Perfect." He leans in and kisses Gerry's cheek. "You're brill, luv."

Gerry doesn't blush, but he does pull away. "Thanks." He erases a sentence and puts another in its place. "Is his father taller than he is?"

"Yeah." Jonny's confused by the pulling back. _He doesn't want you. It. Just take what you've got._ He draws back himself, even his voice giving distance. "Father's about three inches taller, stout but not heavy, has a commanding appearance."

"Right." Gerry ignores the distancing, but it still hurts. He scrolls up to make sure that the character is always looked down upon, never up, sneaking glances at Jonny all the while.

Jonny's glancing at Gerry as much as he's being looked at himself. He just doesn't know what to do, whether to draw back completely, turn over and curl into the pillow or be assertive, move back closer to Gerry. He sucks at assertive, but Jonny's damned if he's giving up entirely. So he compromises and stays his ground.

"Do you take compliments well?" he asks quietly.

"Moderately," Gerry says in the same tone. "Too much is disgusting and flattery."

"How about honesty?" Same soft voice. "Liked shagging you, but I think it'd be better if you did me most of the time."

Gerry stiffens and looks at Jonny. "We're not repeating that, Jonny. Shagged once, and that kicked the urge. Let's get back to work." It's not that he doesn't want to repeat it, but he doesn't want to repeat it. Not now.

"Kicked the urge?" Jonny looks into Gerry's eyes, tracking the color change as they darken. Okay, his editor's angry. Jonny doubts Gerry's going to like the rest of the conversation. "Whose urge? Not mine. Yours? You all happy now? Got the boy wonder to fuck you, so we can just go on with life." He pounds the pillow into submission and leans back against the headboard in a certified pout. "Fine."

"For the love of..." Gerry closes the laptop hard. "It was sex, Jon. Alright? Just sex. And we had it, when we shouldn't have, but we can't undo the past. It was. Just. Sex."

Jonny winces as the laptop cover snaps shut. "Yeah, it was sex. Good sex." He sits up, then kneels up on the bed. "And why shouldn't we have had it? You didn't want it? Now's a bloody good time to tell me. Fuck."

"We work together." Gerry sighs. "This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This awkwardness. We can't shag and work together. It doesn't work."

"Oh, we can't? Who made that rule? Plenty of people shag and work together." Jonny's smiling, faint. "I still respect your editing. Not going to make demands or try to change anything with that arrangement."

"But this." Gerry gestures to the space between them. "Awkward. Uncertain. It's not good, wasn't there before."

"Doesn't have to be there." Jonny moves forward. "See, less space." He smiles. "I like you, Gerry, on a lot of levels. This is just one more layer to us."

That's one way to see it. Gerry sighs. "Give me time, Jonny, ok? Need time with this kind of thing."

"Yessir," Jonny slides out. "Time. I understand." Not really, but Jonny's willing to compromise. "Want me to work on the next rough spot?"

"Yeah." Gerry hands the laptop over. "That sounds like a good idea."


End file.
